


The Road That Stretches Out Ahead

by henriettayuki



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Ficmix, M/M, Mild Language, Road Trip, mentions of previous underage sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:42:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henriettayuki/pseuds/henriettayuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After not speaking for three years, Derek and Stiles embark on a road trip through Northern California.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road That Stretches Out Ahead

**Author's Note:**

> Written to [suchaprince's](http://suchaprince.livejournal.com/) lovely fanmix of the same name, which you can download [here](http://suchaprince.livejournal.com/30709.html). I can't praise this mix enough; it was a prefect soundtrack and wonderful inspiration. Many thanks to suchaprince for everything.
> 
> Beta'd by [AmePourtant](http://amepourtant.livejournal.com/). Thank you for all of your time and effort.

**1\. I'm Not Going**

Stiles threaded through the crowd quickly and dangerously with the amount of liquids being passed around and shared.

"Oops, 'cuse me," he called as he dodged an old lady, who gave him a dirty look for nearly hitting her purse out of her hands.

"Pardon me," he shouted as he spun around Jackson causing the tall boy to jerk back.

"Watch it, Stiles," he snapped but kept it at as a threat in light of the festivities. Stiles raised both hands defensively but kept moving.

"Phish," Stiles muttered to himself. Honestly, the tuxedo should give it away. It's not like he's just a guest. It screamed wedding party. That at least was obvious. He turned around and slammed full stop.

"Stiles!" Lydia yelled. He almost laughed at her aborted stomp toward him; he did grin.

"Lydia," he leered, knowing full well that Jackson could see them. He noticed the two drinks in her hand. "How thoughtful."

She jerked them away from him.

"Get your own," she fussed.

"Aren't you supposed to be helping Allison or something?" Stiles asked. Lydia sipped one of the drinks.

"And where is Scott?" she retorted with an air of superiority. When she huffed, Stiles knew her façade was falling. She leaned in. "Allison is getting a little nervous." She held up the drinks. "Takes the edge off."

Stiles' eyes lit up.

"Lydia, you're brilliant!" he exclaimed and moved to grab two glasses of his own. "Scott won't stop moaning about how bad of an idea this was and how they should've eloped. Imagine if his mother caught wind of that."

Lydia sipped more of her drink then held it out to Stiles for more.

"Or worse, Allison's parents," Lydia replied, glancing at her friend's anxious parents, obviously not terribly impressed with Scott's side of the family. Lydia paused then looked down in her drink. "I don't want to make your duties worse, but look who just showed up."

Stiles glanced over his shoulder and groaned.

Derek Hale and his uncle, Peter.

Lydia shuddered.

"I'll see you later, Stiles," she stated curtly. Stiles barely opened his mouth before she walked away, her head turned deliberately away from the Hales. But that didn't shield her from them watching her. Stiles sighed then noticed Derek looking at him. Three years had barely changed him. Stiles raised his drink and earned a small nod from Derek in acknowledgement. Peter just stared.

Stiles quickly made his way back to the groom's hut, as he had been calling it. He took a large sip from his cup before entering.

"Oh man," Scott moaned, obviously not for Stiles' benefit. He sounded as if he had been worrying just as bad as when Stiles left him. "I don't know, Stiles. What am I supposed to do? I mean what if she says no?"

Stiles shoved the drink firmly forward and grinned.

"Then we'll get married," he joked.

Scott smiled and took the glass.

"Man, I don't know what I would do if you weren't here," Scott admitted, taking a large gulp, then another.

"Dude, you're about to marry Allison. Do you really think me being here would really make a difference?"

Scott gave him a sheepish grin.

"You know what, shut up," Stiles feigned annoyance but was interrupted by a knock.

"How are you boys doing in here?" Mr. Stilinski asked, peering around the door. "Are you two drinking?" He quickly walked in, taking both of their glasses.

"Hey!" Stiles exclaimed. "It was Lydia's idea."

His father glared at him then turned to Scott. He helped him with his bow tie.

"You want to remember this day. Forever," Mr. Stilinski replied.

Both Scott and Stiles fell silent. Mr. Stilinski clasped Scott on the shoulder and smiled.

"We're starting in five."

Scott nodded mechanically. Stiles grinned as his father adjusted his tie as well.

"Keep out of trouble," his father whispered and glanced at Scott, who was starting to panic again, running his hands nervously through his hair. "For his sake."

"Of course, Dad," Stiles assured him, hoping his father read his sincerity.

\-----

**2\. Wedding Guest**  


After the ceremony, Stiles sat beside Scott at the wedding party table with his third drink in hand. The dancing hadn't started and Scott couldn't take his eyes off of Allison. Stiles was officially bored. He tapped one of the many layers of plates and wondered how well they could spin when Scott leaned over.

"Dude! Who invited Derek and his creepy uncle?" Scott whispered.

Stiles glanced at Allison to make sure she was occupied before leaning over.

"I thought you did," Stiles stated. "You know, since we grew up with him."

"He's like five years older than us," Scott retorted. "He used to lock me in a closet!"

"It was a game," Stiles tried. "And you know...Laura used to be pretty cool. And...he's changed since then...apparently." Stiles watched Derek interact with another guest at his table, which mainly included the man talking at Derek before Peter eventually intervened and continued the conversation.

It had been three years since Stiles last saw Derek. College made it difficult to visit and it wasn’t like Derek made an effort. In all honesty, the only reason Stiles knew Derek was still around was because he drove past Peter’s shop. It wasn’t on purpose, Stiles told himself.

Scott sulked and frowned in the Hales' direction while Stiles drank and stared.

"Allison."

The wedding party looked up at the familiar voice.

Mr. Argent stood tall behind his daughter and reminded the group of the many times he had interrupted their hang outs with the same looming presence.

"And we'll start with the father and daughter dance," the MC spoke over the speakers.

Mr. Argent smiled proudly while Allison slid out of her chair, with Scott's assistance with her skirt, and beamed the brightest smile toward her father. Mr. Argent led her onto the dance floor and Scott leaned over.

"Why did we decide on this?" he groaned.

"It's tradition, dude," Stiles whispered. He could barely keep his own sigh to himself as the cameras and romantics watched with tender affection.

"How long am I supposed to wait?" Scott asked, his foot jittering at his side.

Stiles looked at him, unimpressed.

"At least a minute," he assured him.

"How long has it been?"

"I'll let you know."

Allison had requested a dance with her dad and Scott being Scott agreed to everything. They all thought it would be a good compromise given how much the Argents hated them and still consented to the marriage and the wedding and the future of having grandchildren named McCall.

But as they watched Allison and her dad start to tear up, they knew everything would be all right.

"Go. Go before they both start full-on waterworks," Stiles hissed, elbowing Scott and pushing him up and out of his seat.

Stiles watched Scott try to keep his composure as he walked quickly around the wedding party table. He looked incredibly nervous with each step toward the dance floor until he was beside Allison and her dad.

Stiles glanced at Lydia and slid down the table until he sat beside her in Allison's vacant chair.

"Just imagine the rest of their lives," Stiles teased. Mr. Argent looked unprepared to hand Allison over to Scott but he clasped their hands together and tried to smile.

"The first dance as husband and wife. Mr. and Mrs. McCall."

The music changed and Scott brought Allison close to him. He brushed the stray tears from her face; their smiles radiated and they had eyes for no one else.

"They look so lovely," Lydia sighed. Stiles glanced at her and smiled.

"I didn't know you had a soft spot for weddings," Stiles nudged her. She glared at him.

"Everyone has soft spots for weddings, Stiles," she assured him. "Especially when I put as much time as I did into this one. It better be damn near perfect."

Stiles grinned goofily. That was his Lydia.

"And think, you tried so hard to break them up."

"The past is behind us. We all make mistakes."

"Including you?"

Lydia shook her head to fix her curls.

"Time to time," she admitted then looked into the crowd. Stiles turned to follow her gaze when the MC started again.

"Would the Best Man and Maid of Honor come to the floor?"

Lydia turned to Stiles but he was already standing and holding his hand out.

"Shall we?"

It amazed him how Lydia could smile and it could mean 'you're terrible', 'I could kill you for this' and of course, 'I will dance with you', wrapped in one cute little package.

Stiles led her to the floor and noted that Scott and Allison hadn't noticed them at all.

"I thought I said this wasn't going to happen," Lydia threatened.

"You know," Stiles grinned, "tradition."

"I should murder you for this."

"I look forward to it. Many times."

She laughed and Stiles couldn't help but watch affectionately. He glanced at Allison and Scott and turned back to Lydia.

"We could have been that," he whispered.

To his surprise, Lydia didn't pull away.

"We've been over this," she whispered, her hand moving up his shoulder to his neck. "I love Jackson."

Stiles sighed.

"I know," he whispered back, pulling her closer, not ready to let this go again. It reminded him of being sixteen, of being scared and in love and doing all the right things for all the wrong reasons.

"But I'm always honored," she smiled and pulled away a little. "It's not everyday a girl gets offered a V-card over and over again."

Stiles rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh in her face.

"I'm not a virgin," he whispered.

She giggled in his ear.

"Yeah, right," she teased.

"No seriously," he tried again.

"Yeah then with whom?"

"Let's get everyone on the floor," the MC interrupted. A few eager dancers rushed onto the floor. The music pacing changed and Scott and Allison finally became aware of their surroundings but still smiled and embraced each other closely.

"I'm not though," Stiles muttered to Lydia.

"And..."

Stiles stared into her expectant eyes. He wanted to tell her, have someone to share with.

"I can't tell you whom with," Stiles whined. "A gentleman never tells."

"Yeah, right," she laughed then pulled away. "You'll find someone, Stiles. One day."

Jackson entered his peripheral view and Stiles pulled away completely. She gave him a sympathetic smile and farewell wave before disappearing into Jackson's protective arms.

Stiles sulked off the dance floor, thankful there were enough dancers to cover his retreat. He was filling a glass when he felt another's presence beside him.

"I didn't expect you to actually show up," Stiles stated, looking up at Derek. "You look good, by the way," Stiles added with a blush before offering his drink. Derek looked at it in disdain before looking back at the dance floor, ignoring his comment completely.

"I'm DD," he replied and nodded to the side. Stiles saw Peter talking to someone, smiling with that strange inviting smile. "Do you really think he's going stay sober at a wedding?"

"I do remember he had the saying 'being sober at a wedding was a waste of good booze and a good time'," Stiles remembered.

Derek looked like he was trying to forget a lot of Peter's sayings.

Stiles shrugged and led them away from the crowd but full view of the party.

"Yeah, way to waste your plus one, by the way," Stiles stated into his drink. "Peter, really? You're really not trying to get onto the Argents' good side."

"It's Allison's day," Derek replied. "I don't give a damn about the rest of them."

"Ok, ok," Stiles gave in. "Just keep him away from Lydia, all right? I don't want to know the details or anything, just keep him away from her."

"Why?" Derek asked. "I'm sure Jackson can handle him."

Stiles glanced over his shoulder toward Lydia. She laughed and looked up at Jackson and radiated happiness. It wasn't over being the girl dating the captain of the high school lacrosse team or the most popular guy in town, or whatever Jackson was to people who weren't Stiles, but truly happy just to be his and him hers.

"Dude," Stiles huffed with an unimpressed look, "not cool."

"Like you dancing with Lydia?" Derek asked.

"It's—wait! What? Were you going to ask me to dance?"

"I better go handle this," Derek stated as Peter drifted toward the Argents' side of the hall.

"Wait!" Stiles called. "Derek! Were you?"

Stiles pursed his lips in frustration and went to find a dance partner. Or just the floor. Yeah, he was ready for the floor.

\-----

**3\. The Motion Waltz (Emotional Commotion)**  


Derek knocked before entering Stiles' room without prompt. Stiles glanced over his shoulder to him, grinned then returned to his packing.

The room had barely changed since the last time he visited, long before he found a save the date in his mailbox and even longer since Stiles had gone off to college, leaving him finally alone. It was taking a step back in time.

"That ended surprisingly well," Stiles stated casually.

"With a marriage?" Derek asked, looking at the books on the bookcase. A thin layer of dust cased the long forgotten titles.

"Funny," Stiles retorted. "No one arrested or a blood bath."

"Hm," Derek ran his finger over a familiar binding. "That is surprising."

He pulled the book from the shelf and turned to Stiles.

"So what's the plan now?" the younger boy asked, flopping on his bed. "Wedding's over. Allison and Scott starting their lovely lives together. Everyone is going back to wherever. What are you going to do?"

"Peter has a few more ideas for the store," Derek answered after a slow pause. "I'll probably help."

Stiles sat up and frowned at him.

"Seriously? You still work at his shop?" he spat then backed down when Derek glared murderously at him. "What?"

"Don't start with me," Derek warned, falling into their familiar patterns.

"It's just, really, man. You need to get out of this shit town."

"I like this shit town," Derek snapped.

Stiles huffed and Derek could feel his eyes on him as Derek looked around the room.

"Then let's go somewhere."

Derek turned and gave him a wary glare.

"I'm serious." Stiles jumped off his bed, with a bit more motion than was needed, and grabbed something from his desk. "We should just leave," Stiles announced, shaking the GPS at him. "You, me, this guy and my baby."

"And where do you plan on going?" Derek asked much like Stiles' father had when he announced the plan two nights ago.

"I don't care," Stiles shrugged. "I'm not going to wallow here and listen to everyone talk about Scott's wedding for the next three weeks until I go back to school. Or go driving around thinking what hell did I do with myself to end up here."

They stared at each other. Derek's eyes gave nothing away but Stiles shifted uncomfortably nonetheless.

"Come on," Stiles muttered. "We're cool, right? Everything's cool."

It sounded playful but Derek could hear the question, the uncertainty. Derek never knew how to defend himself against Stiles when he became like this. Time had not made him as strong as he had thought, but then again, communicating was never their strong point.

"Or do you want to do the same shit you do every summer and pretend you don't fucking know me?" Anger finally creeping in.

"I don't—"

"Bullshit," Stiles spat and went back to packing.

Derek watched him messily folded a few shirts and tossed them haphazardly into his bag.

"So you want to get in a car and just drive?" Derek asked.

Stiles glanced at him and shrugged.

"Why not?"

Derek looked back down to the book in his hand, just to avoid Stiles' gaze. There were a lot of reasons for why not. It being a really stupid idea was only the first of many.

Stiles reached forward and pulled the paperback from him, bringing Derek's attention back to him. Their fingers brushed purposely as the book left Derek's loose grip.

"Why do you have this?" Stiles asked with a grin. He flipped through the pages carelessly.

"It's mine," Derek pointed out, finally looking at Stiles' face, seeing nothing out of the ordinary or intimate.

"You gave it to me," Stiles answered.

"To read," Derek retorted. He nodded toward the dusty shelf. "Not to collect dust."

"Dude, I totally read it. Stop being a sourpuss."

Derek sat silently on the bed, watching his old paperback get flipped through roughly, front ways then backwards. He wondered if Stiles had read it.

"You're going to break it," Derek stated.

Stiles stopped flipping through the pages then looked back at Derek.

"Come on," Stiles tried again. "You, me and the road. I'm sure you can do all of Peter's bitch work when you get back. It's not like it's pressing, right?"

Derek sighed then held his hand out.

Stiles gave a slight grin in victory and slapped the book down in his hand.

"Bring warm clothes."

Derek frowned.

"What are you planning?"

"We're going north!"

\-----

**4\. Home**  


Stiles threw the last of his bags in the back of his jeep when Derek showed up.

"You're late," Stiles shouted as Derek climbed out of his car.

"You never gave me a time," Derek replied. He approached Stiles empty handed.

"Where's your stuff?" Stiles asked then Derek grabbed his bags. "Hey! What are you doing?"

"I'm not driving around in your jeep," Derek replied. Stiles gripped the bag straps, not relenting. "Do you want to freeze your ass off in your jeep or do you want to be in my car where there's actual insulation?"

Stiles glared at him. He did have a point. There was a vague memory of a Scott and Stiles camping trip that included the jeep and freezing their asses off. It hadn't been one of their finer moments. He begrudgingly released his bag to Derek and glared as he moved everything into the Camaro.

With Derek handling the bags, Stiles crawled into the front seat of the Jeep to grab his snacks and GPS. He glanced into the back at Derek. The older man undertook the task with such focus and determination that it tickled Stiles' humor to no end.

"Are you going to say goodbye?" Derek asked, slamming the trunk.

Stiles glanced back at the house.

"I'll text my dad that we're taking your car but we said our goodbyes last night," Stiles replied. He looked over the house again. It wasn't like he was moving to college again. It was still his house; he still had his shit there, a room and storage in the garage. Derek always made goodbyes so final.

"You lock the doors?"

Stiles glared at him then questioned himself. Derek grinned and went to the driver's side. Stiles bound up the stairs, checked the door (it was locked) and headed back to the car.

"Ready?" Stiles asked as he slid into the passenger's seat, watching Derek fumble for something in the back.

Derek threw a heavy book into Stiles' lap, eliciting a yelp.

"Watch the junk!" Stiles yelled. He looked at the brick of a book then at Derek. "What's this?"

"Guidebook," Derek replied, starting the car and checking his mirrors.

"Yeah, that's what this is for," Stiles replied, pulling out his GPS and shaking it for Derek's benefit. Derek grabbed it and threw it into the backseat. "Hey! What the hell? That was expensive!" Stiles tried to reach for it when Derek pulled out of the driveway and jerked the car into drive, pinballing Stiles against the seat and the belt. "Fuck, Derek!"

"I'm not listening to a robot chime every five minutes," Derek stated matter of factly. "Just find me a route."

Stiles glared at him then flipped through the pages for their location.

"Do you have a pen?" Stiles asked.

Derek grunted; Stiles read it as 'why would I have a pen' and continued flipping the pages, dog earring a few ideas.

"Just head toward the 101," Stiles tossed the book at his feet and watched the familiar drive. He had driven with Derek often enough to know his favorite routes around town. They avoided major streets and town in general.

Stiles would have taken a different direction altogether. He tended to drive by the police station, the diner his mom had loved, Scott's house, the main drag and the quickest route out of town.

There were purposely no familiar sites on Derek's drive. He avoided his house, where he hung out with friends –occasionally they passed a hole in the wall that they visited once or twice on Stiles' insistence but Derek had no way to avoid those without going into town. He wondered if Derek remembered their spots, hated them, resented them or embraced them.

"Do you want to stop by Brackets on the way or are you taking Lake?" Stiles asked, genuinely curious which route Derek took to the highway.

"Doesn't matter," Derek replied then glanced at him. "Do you care?"

Stiles shrugged.

"Nope." He watched Derek drive. "Did you tell Peter you were leaving with me?"

There was a long pause before Derek answered.

"No."

Stiles wanted to say something. He wanted to nag Derek like Derek nagged him but Derek wouldn't appreciate the prying and Stiles knew better than to question it. So he shuffled through his bags of snacks and pulled out a box of Reese's Pieces.

"Want some?" He shook the box. Derek glanced at him then looked back at the road.

"Don't spill them."

Stiles grinned and tore into the box, watching Derek's choices in routes with fascination.

\-----

**5\. Door Ways**  


Derek glanced at Stiles. The younger boy was slouched in the passenger seat, taking photos with his phone of something in the sky. The sharp breeze circled through the car from the open passenger’s window. Derek leaned forward to try and see what he was capturing. There was nothing. He leaned back in his seat.

"What are you doing?" Derek asked.

Stiles slid his finger over the screen.

"Documenting," Stiles replied offhandedly, not looking up. "Say 'Cheese'."

Derek glanced over. Stiles leaned toward the center console and held the phone nearly out the window to take the photo. The phone clicked and Stiles shifted back into his chair; he grinned at the screen.

"That looks terrible," he chuckled.

"Don't put these online," Derek told him.

Stiles rolled his eyes and slid his finger over the screen.

"I'm serious," Derek warned.

"I know," Stiles muttered. "I heard you. You're so out of touch."

"I don't need my life on display," Derek retorted.

"Dude, for like, who? Who cares?"

"I do," Derek snapped.

"Fine," Stiles resigned with a sigh. "Fine." He leaned against the door, the breeze ruffling the little hair he had, and faced Derek. "Then give me a smile."

Derek ignored him.

"Come on," Stiles sing-songed. "Let's see those teeth." Derek side glared at him. "Come on, for my personal collection since you're such an old man." Derek glared at him and Stiles took a photo.

Derek turned back to the road, feeling tricked.

Stiles snickered.

"Beautiful. Grumpy pants in his element."

"Fuck you," Derek growled.

Stiles just smiled and went back to capturing something in the sky.

\-----

**6\. Car**  


"So where do you want to stay tonight?" Stiles asked, bending and breaking the guidebook's spine to keep it splayed open. He chewed on the pen cap he bought while Derek was gassing up. He circled an entry. "There's a Motel 6 a mile up."

"Try a better rating," Derek replied without looking up from his meal.

Stiles looked up.

"I can't afford—"

"Don't worry about it," Derek interrupted, still ignoring him.

Stiles stared at him until Derek finally acknowledged him.

"Come on, man," Stiles started. "You're paying for the hotels and gas? You're not even helping pick where we're going. This is a road trip. You're not my driver.

Derek went back to his plate.

"This was your trip," he replied.

"And now it's ours."

Derek continued eating. 

Stiles slammed the guidebook close and started eating his burger. He knew he was eating louder and messier than he needed to but he was making a point. He slathered his fries with ketchup and shoved them in his already full mouth.

Derek growled and set his silverware down.

"All right. Fine," he resigned and grabbed the book. He flipped it to the broken page and flipped around, taking in Stiles' notes and marks. "Here."

He turned the book back and tapped his finger against an entry.

Stiles put his burger down and pulled the book to him. Not too bad, he thought.

"Are we doing—" he swallowed his food, "two rooms or one?"

Derek looked at him like a deer in the headlights. Stiles looked back at the book.

"Cause I mean, I guess we could do one room but we need two beds, right? Or...I don't know," he stole a glance at Derek, who looked like the thought hadn't occurred to him until now. "I mean we used to have sleepovers, right, but they weren't like...Scott and I used to have. And sleeping wasn't really—"

"Just stop," Derek interrupted sharply. Stiles looked up and saw that he was growing red. Stiles already knew his face was burning. "We'll do two beds. You can keep your hands to yourself."

"Refill?" the waitress interrupted.

Stiles nearly spilt his remaining water trying to move it toward her. He looked at Derek but the older man was already returning to his meal, barely flustered anymore.

"You're such an ass," Stiles muttered after the waitress had left. He shoveled fries in his mouth just to have something to do. It made him nauseous.

"You're the one who brought it up," Derek replied.

Stiles glared at his food knowing Derek was right.

\-----

**7\. Piledriver Waltz**  


Stiles collapsed on the first bed and relished at the softness. He was glad that Derek had insisted on taking the Camaro, on this hotel over the Motel 6, on everything at this moment.

"Do you need the bathroom?" Derek asked, already heading inside.

"I'm good," Stiles sighed.

"Don't fall asleep like that," Derek warned and shut the door behind him.

"I'll rub my butt on your pillows if I want to," Stiles muttered into the blankets. He heard water run in the bathroom and looked around. He hadn't been in a hotel in a long time. He had definitely been in better—he grimaced—and worse.

Now that the bathroom was occupied, he wanted to use it. He looked at the empty bed then back at the shared bathroom wall.

This had been a terrible idea.

Being in the car had been fine. Eating, planning and just moving had been fine. Being in the hotel room, listening to the water run, thinking of Derek showering, their shared experiences in hotel rooms—this was not fine.

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut before rubbing the heel of his palms against them.

"You ok?" Derek asked.

Stiles sat up; he must have looked like shit because Derek held the bathroom door open.

"Go wash up."

Stiles stared at him. He knew every inch of him. How had they fallen into being them and just as easily fallen out?

"Stiles?" Derek called and brought him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"Go wash up," Derek repeated, reaching forward and pulling him to his feet. "Don't use up all the water; I want to take a shower later."

Stiles reluctantly headed toward the bathroom. He wanted to just fall back to bed and wake up to the part where everything was ok again.

\-----

**8\. Something to Talk About**  


Derek pulled over as Stiles started to bounce in the passenger's seat like a child.

"Here! Here! Pull over!" Stiles exclaimed.

He was grateful that Stiles at least waited until the car was turned off.

"Oh man!" Stiles yelled and laughed.

Derek paused and looked up in stunned awe.

"Take a picture!" Stiles pushed his phone into Derek's hands without seeing if Derek would actually hold it. He bound up to the giant dinosaur and just raised his arms, showing his midriff. "Did you get it?"

Derek pulled the phone up.

"Come on!" Stiles yelled, arms still in the air. "Don't tell me you're having trouble with technology, old man."

"Fuck off," Derek grumbled and leaned back and took the photo. "Got it."

Stiles bounded over, looked it over and grinned brightly.

"I'd seen it from the freeway every time we went to see my grandparents," Stiles stated. "You want a picture too?"

"No, I'm good," Derek assured him.

"Oh come on, Sourbutt."

"Yeah, that's not winning you any points," Derek grumbled.

"Come on," Stiles whined and pulled Derek in close as he held the phone up. "Say 'Cheese'."

Derek stuck his tongue out.

Stiles pulled his phone down and laughed.

"Perfect." He played with the screen then bound away. "Smile!" He took another of Derek staring at him blankly.

"You're really being obnoxious," Derek pointed out.

"Then go wait in the car," Stiles replied and took another picture of himself and the dinosaur.

Derek glared at him before following his advice and headed for the car. He had half the mind to leave him there. The slushies they had bought at the gas station were turning into soda.

Stiles continued snapping photos of the dinosaur and the deserted landscape as Derek watched from the car. It oddly reminded him of being with Laura. He often waited in the car while she watched Stiles and Scott run off sugar highs at the park near their house. When the car grew too warm, he joined them but at a distance. Scott tended to leave him alone but Stiles ran his mouth, pestered him and was an overall nuisance. Even after Laura passed away and Scott spent his summers with his dad, Stiles never lost his ability to annoy him.

Stiles slid into the passenger's seat and grinned.

"You done?" Derek asked.

"You're such a buzz kill," Stiles replied but not without taking one last photo. "Where do you want to go next?"

"Let's head west," Derek stated, reaching for his seatbelt.

"Sounds good," Stiles agreed, still flipping through his photos.

Derek watched in silence.

It had been a moment like this. Just the two of them one summer, alone and unsure what the future held, that Derek had kissed him for the first time, sitting on a park bench near his old house. He had been far too old to be hanging out with a fourteen year old and illegal to be kissing one, but it hadn't mattered. Not one bit.

Stiles looked up from his phone, raising an eyebrow questioning.

"You ok?"

Derek looked away and started the car.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

\-----

**9\. The Bridge**  


Derek looked out the windshield hesitantly then pulled into the parking lot. The one story building looked dated and wind-worn compared to the vibrant forest, barely kept at bay from the main drag.

"Is this it?" he asked.

"I think so?" Stiles guessed, uncertainty clear on his face. He looked at the paper in his hands then shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. She said it was pretty good."

Derek was starting to doubt the hotel clerk but the restaurant did look busy, not that anything of the other shops were open to compare.

"Let's check it out," Stiles muttered and climbed out of the car.

Derek followed silently. The place was small, cramped and lively.

"Hey," the maitre d' greeted them. He was young and probably the owner's son or family friend. "Just two?"

"Actually our hotel made a reservation?" Stiles offered.

"Ah," the boy grinned. "You're lucky. The wait is like two hours."

"And they mentioned a discount?" Stiles tried, ignoring Derek's incredulous look.

But the boy laughed and nodded.

"Yeah," he assured him. "I have your table over here."

Derek stabbed Stiles hard in the ribs.

"Ow! What?" Stiles hissed, slapping Derek's hand away.

"Seriously?"

Stiles shrugged but kept an eye on him as they followed the maitre d'.

"Here you go," the boy stated, putting the menus down. "Not the best spot but you've got a kinda view."

Derek noted the not best spot part. It was a small nook that he could barely squeeze into the booth part of the table but they were only a few tables away from a large window with a view of the forest. Once you got past the outline of the kitchen.

"Thanks," Stiles smiled and took his seat. "This is kinda fun!"

Derek huffed, half amused, looking over the menu.

"Better than the possum place you took me to in high school," Stiles noted and they both tried not to laugh. Stiles failed and gained a few odd looks for his trouble.

"You told me it had good yelp ratings," Derek pointed out with a smile barely hidden behind his menu.

"It had four stars!" Stiles laughed. "For a roadkill diner!"

Derek contained his amusement.

"I wonder what kind of rating this place has," Stiles wondered out loud but didn't reach for his phone. 

Derek closed his menu and watched him.

"I'm actually surprised you haven't been getting a detailed account of Scott's honeymoon," Derek admitted.

"Haven't had service," Stiles replied but to Derek's surprise he didn't look too put out. "Have you seriously not been checking?"

Derek shrugged.

"Haven't had a need to."

Stiles turned a little red in the cheeks but was saved by their waiter appearing.

They both ordered the prime rib special, the reason they were directed there to begin with, and an appetizer of the local seafood.

"So did you want to head back after this?" Stiles asked, rubbing his head then his belly as he stretched backwards.

Derek restrained himself from flicking him in the face.

"Do you have something in mind?" Derek asked instead.

"Walking off some of this food would be awesome," Stiles stated, looking at his empty plate. "I think I'm going to die."

Derek watched him yawn.

"Maybe we should head back," Derek offered.

"No," Stiles shook his head. "Let's go for a walk."

"Ok," Derek agreed. "Let me settle the bill."

"I'm going to wait outside," Stiles stated, standing up. Derek watched him cautiously. "Before I try eating everything on the dessert tray also."

"They're fake," Derek pointed out.

Stiles nodded.

"I know," he muttered as he headed outside.

Derek lowered his head to hide an amused smile.

\-----

**10\. On My Way Back Home**  


Stiles collapsed onto his bed and groaned.

"Now my legs are sore," he whined.

He felt Derek kick his legs out of the way to his own bed.

"You wanted to go for a walk," Derek pointed out, grabbing something from his bag then heading into the bathroom.

"You could have said no," Stiles retorted.

He listened to Derek get ready for bed. He turned around and saw the bathroom door open. Derek's arms and torso were visible from the mirror doors on the hall closet. Stiles folded his arms behind his head and watched.

"Hm," Derek replied and washed his face.

"Do you want to hit any of the shops we passed when we head out tomorrow?" Stiles called.

"I'm good," Derek replied. "Did you?" He turned and looked at Stiles through the mirror.

Stiles couldn't look away.

"I'm good," he muttered.

Derek stared at him silently then turned back to the sink. He rubbed his stubble then reached for his toothbrush. Stiles looked away, feeling his face burn.

"Do we want to head north from here?" Derek called.

Stiles turned over, not bothering to look back at Derek, and squirmed up the bed to grab the guidebook. He flipped to a dog-eared page then to the next.

"Yeah," Stiles muttered. "There's a few places that sound interesting."

The bathroom light turned off and Stiles watched Derek round his bed.

"Go wash up."

"You know, you don't have to tell me that every night," Stiles reminded him. "I'm not twelve anymore."

"Mm-hm," Derek replied, reaching for his bag.

Stiles stuck his tongue out at Derek's back before jumping off the bed and going to the bathroom to wash up. He left the door open but he didn't catch Derek spying. When he climbed into bed, he sighed at the cool cloth against his clean face. He watched Derek finish getting ready and climb into his own bed. The older man turned off Stiles' side of the lamp and pulled out a familiar paperback from his bag.

"Really?" Stiles whispered.

Derek looked at him.

"You just noticed?" Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged and curled into the blankets.

"Will you read to me?" Stiles teased.

"I thought you weren't twelve," Derek pointed out, turning to his bookmark.

"Hm..." Stiles muttered into his pillow, his eyes already fluttering shut. "Derek?"

"Hm?"

"This has been fun," Stiles muttered then smiled. "I never thought, in a thousand years, that we could be friends again."

There was silence.

Stiles struggled to open his eyes. Derek was watching him; his face gave none of his thoughts away. Stiles sat up.

"We're—"

"We were never friends, Stiles," Derek interrupted.

Stiles stared at him.

"Oh," Stiles whispered.

Derek turned back to his book.

"Just go to sleep," Derek replied.

Stiles stared at him for a moment, suddenly awake and hurt. He reached out from under the cover to grab his phone from the bedside table and turned away, pulling the covers over his head as he quietly played a game in hopes of forgetting and falling asleep.

\-----

**11\. Things I Cannot Recall**  


The windows were down, letting the ocean breeze leave salt on their faces through the twists and turns of the coastal road. Stiles was slouched in his chair, had barely moved since they started that morning, completely and utterly absorbed in his phone game. In retaliation to the sudden silence, Derek had turned on the radio, which was quickly replaced by Stiles' iPod when they lost any decent signal. It had been a long, uninteresting drive after the first hour.

"Turn the volume up," Stiles muttered for the first time since they had left their hotel room that morning.

Derek reached over and recognized the song as he turned the volume up.

"I didn't know you liked this," Derek admitted, tapping the wheel.

Stiles shrugged, still playing on his phone.

"I remember you saying it was crap," Derek pointed out.

Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Just shut up," Stiles stated with no malice but turned the volume louder.

Derek wanted to look at him but kept his eyes on the twisting road. He remembered when this song was his and his alone. He had found it amongst Laura's things, trying to throw out something to feel like he was moving forward. He played it almost every day the summer he found it, almost religiously at one point.

Stiles had hated it. Sounded like alley cats, loud crap, no melody and not music were some of his complaints. But Derek played it again and again, often falling asleep and waking up to it on loop.

It was the same summer he had slept with Stiles for the first time.

They knew they were building up to it. During the school year they barely met for awkward kisses and pretenses to fool around but the summer tended to intensify their relationship. Summer was when they progressed and that summer Stiles had accepted his offer to stay over and one thing led to another.

It was the same summer he started using his camera again. It had been a second hand film camera with a broken aperture control that he had shared with Laura. He reacquainted himself with the chemicals and set up a darkroom in the guest bathroom. Somewhere in a box was a summer worth of photographs that he loved dearly. The tree his great-grandparents planted when the family first moved to Beacon Hills, his favorite break in the hills by the old train depot just outside of town, and Stiles.

He loved capturing Stiles. Every curve of muscle, every darkening bruise, every knot of bone under tender skin, he captured on film and had known intimately.

He stole a glance at Stiles and noticed that he had finally put his phone away.

"You ok?" Derek asked, not fully confident he wanted to know the answer.

"Yeah," Stiles replied and turned away, looking out at the window where the cut in the cliff was close enough to touch.

Derek wondered how long Stiles had been watching him, if he also remembered.

"Do you want to stop for lunch?" Derek tried again.

Stiles shrugged and Derek was starting to get annoyed. They sat in silence as the song ended and another started. Derek tapped on the wheel again, this time out of frustration.

"Do you remember any of it?" Stiles finally asked.

"Remember what?" It came out quieter than Derek thought it would.

"That summer," Stiles answered firmly.

A car was coming up behind them, fast, and Derek watched carefully as it overtook them.

"Why wouldn't I?" Derek answered, watching the car disappear around the corner at an incredible speed despite the twists and turns.

"You can be purposely ignorant when you want to be," Stiles replied coldly.

Derek checked his mirrors for any other traffic.

"If you mean if I remember you dating Lydia Martin after letting me fuck you, then yeah, I remember it very clearly," Derek countered roughly. He glanced at Stiles but the younger man had his eyes squeezed shut. "You think we were ever friends? Even if you were my friend that was—"

"Pull over when you can," Stiles muttered.

"What?"

"I feel car sick."

Derek sighed and turned off at the first opportunity.

Stiles was quick out of the car and leaned against the cliffside, breathing roughly.

"You ok?"

"Just staring at my phone for too long," Stiles wheezed between violent gasps of air.

Derek was tempted to talk to him, to calm him. He knew how; he had much practice in it. But he couldn't. He couldn't let himself care. They weren't friends. They were never friends. Bitterly, Derek wondered if they had ever been anything. He ground his teeth and wanted to kick something but sat a few feet away. He listened to Stiles trying to regain his breath, knowing he contributed to it and could help but didn't.

\-----

**12\. No One Does It Like You**  


"Are you feeling any better?" Derek asked despite the fact Stiles had barely touched his small plate of fries.

"Yeah," Stiles replied, pushing the fries around the plate. "I'm fine."

It was his own fault, really. He should have just called Derek out on his bullshit the night before. It wasn't like this was new. Any time Lydia was brought up, Derek went into childish jealousy, which he had no right to.

Stiles watched Derek finish his meal, glance at Stiles' then turn to look for their waiter.

"Here," Stiles sighed and pushed his plate toward Derek. "I'm not hungry."

"You're going to get sick if you don't eat anything," Derek babied and Stiles rolled his eyes.

"And I'm going to get sick if I eat it so just..." he gestured to his plate, "help yourself."

Derek barely hesitated before taking his plate.

It hadn't been a shitty summer. In fact, it had been awesome. He had asked the hottest girl in town to date him and after years of getting no, he had gotten a maybe. It was a pretty big deal. They went on a few dates and kissed once or twice and it had been great. Yeah, it hadn't been his greatest moment but losing his virginity to Derek Hale only to be left sitting for two weeks, forgotten like a used condom, didn't tend to bring out the best in him.

Lydia, on the other hand, had been available and the love of his life until a stupid jackass had complicated things, so he let things lay as they fell. And he knew how summers worked and rebounds were rebounds and when school started again, Lydia was with Jackson again and Stiles was God knows what with Derek.

It wasn't like Derek stopped the sex anyway. Not until he went away to college and now they were...

Derek finished the second plate and looked at Stiles.

"Are you sure you don't want something to go?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Stiles repeated and closed the guidebook beside him that was going untouched. He pushed it toward Derek. "Find our next place. I need to use the bathroom." He shuffled out of the booth.

In the bathroom, Stiles threw some water on his face. How had he been so dumb? Derek was right, they had never been friends. They were fuck buddies at best. The thought turned his face red in embarrassment. They should have never done this. He should have never prompted this.

Stiles pulled more towels than he needed and rubbed his face raw before looking at it again. Now he looked shit. Fantastic. Stiles gave up and left to meet Derek.

Derek waited at the entrance with a takeaway bag in his hand.

Stiles glared at him, unamused.

"What?" Derek asked. "It's not for you."

Stiles stared at him then laughed sharply and shook his head.

"Whatever."

Stiles yanked the bag away from him and headed toward the car. As he waited, leaning against the passenger's side, he opened the bag. Sure enough there were fries and a handful of ketchup packets.

Stiles sighed and reached into the bag to stuff a few fries in his mouth before Derek saw him. His stomach churned but they tasted amazing.

\-----

**13\. Leaves**  


Derek watched as Stiles jumped up the open amphitheatre benches to the front then back toward him.

"I think I've been here before," Stiles announced, dropping to the dirt ground.

"My parents used to take me and my siblings up here when we were younger," Derek admitted.

Stiles considered his statement for a moment then jumped back onto the closest bench.

"It's not really that different from Beacon Hills," Stiles called.

Derek shrugged.

"It's different," he assured him. "There's redwoods."

Stiles twisted then bound back to him.

"And that makes it better?"

Derek looked up at the high canopy above. The sun broke through but was heavily diluted across his face. Even its warmth was fleeting.

"Maybe," Derek whispered.

Stiles jumped down again then smiled for the first time since the night before.

"Then we better take a picture."

He watched Stiles pull out his phone and turn on the camera feature. He held it up but it didn't quite capture them both.

Derek brushed Stiles' fingers to take the phone and hold it up higher. He leaned into Stiles.

"Say 'Cheese'," Stiles muttered but didn't smile.

"Cheese," Derek whispered and took the picture. He handed it to Stiles for review. Stiles looked it over then frowned.

"You didn't even smile," Stiles scoffed and chuckled. "Do it again." He shoved the camera back into Derek's hand and leaned back against Derek's shoulder. "Say 'Cheese'!"

Derek gave a half-hearted attempt.

"I guess that's better," Stiles resigned.

Stiles headed out of the amphitheatre, looking at his phone.

"Stiles," Derek called. Stiles turned to him. He looked tired despite his energy. "You were my friend. When we were…together. I shouldn't have said weren't. We…we were."

Stiles stared at him then nodded.

"I know," Stiles stated, looking at his phone then pocketing it with a small smile. "Come on. Let's go find a tree to hug."

Derek followed him, wordlessly. They walked up the deserted, designated path, passing fallen giants and parted trunks.

"Here!" Stiles grinned in front of a random large redwood.

Derek waited.

"Hey, you're the one who wants to be forgiven. Hug the damn tree," Stiles ordered, crossing his arms, patiently.

"I'm not hugging the tree, Stiles," Derek replied.

"Then say you're sorry," Stiles retorted.

"I did."

"No. You said you shouldn't have said it. I want to hear the words. Or you hug the tree."

"Stiles," Derek warned.

Stiles whined loudly.

"I'm giving you a freaking out, man! Hug the damn tree!"

Derek growled and moved closer to Stiles and his chosen tree. Stiles grinned as Derek moved in then bit his lip as he moved even closer.

"Derek..."

Derek pressed his forehead to Stiles'. He closed his eyes, listening to their slow, shallow breaths.

"I am sorry," Derek admitted. He felt Stiles tug at the edge of his jacket.

"I know," Stiles whispered. They stood there for a long moment before Stiles pulled away. "Come on," Stiles called. His fingers pulled at Derek's in a fleeting touch as he walked away. "We still have a walk to the oldest tree. Señoir Colonel Armstrong."

"I think it's just called Colonel Armstrong."

Stiles stuck his tongue out at him and Derek followed with a slight smile.

\-----

**14\. How Can You Swallow So Much Sleep [Daytrotter Version]**  


Despite the cold ocean wind ripping through them, Derek looked content. He stood perched on the rocks jutting into the ocean. The waves lapped underfoot while they pooled and ebbed near Stiles at the tide pools. He slid his fingers across the freezing water, moving seaweed and other debris to look at the starfishes and sea cucumbers.

The clouds looked threatening and heavy in the distance but between the ocean spray and harsh winds, a little rain wouldn't have mattered to either of them. Stiles poked at a starfish, ran his finger over its rocky spines then looked back at Derek. The older man was unmoved. Stiles sighed and made his way back to the beach.

The vegetation overgrowth hung, suspended from the cliffs above him. Their sharp colors contrasted to all of the gray of the ocean and the sky and the sand. Stiles made his way to the giant redwoods that had fallen far up the coast and drifted aimlessly before being captured in the jut of land. He glanced at his unmoving companion before walking between the fallen trees and the cliffside. Out of view, he tried to climb it. His fingers clawed at the soft bark and his feet scrambled to find purchase. After falling back to the sand a few times, Stiles gave up and walked back to the beach.

"Derek!" he called.

Derek didn't move.

"Hey! Derek!" Stiles tried again.

Derek turned; the wind ruffled his hair and he stood so alone on his perch.

"Come help me out?" Stiles called.

Derek turned and Stiles watched him crawl across the rocks back to the beach.

"What are you doing?" Derek asked, his hands in his pockets, looking down at Stiles.

Stiles nodded toward the tree.

"Give me a hand?"

Derek scoffed affectionately and shook his head.

"Oh come on," Stiles grumbled.

"Fine."

He let Stiles crawl up his knee then hoisted him onto the fallen trunk.

"What are you going to do now?" Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged and looked out to the water.

Derek turned out to the ocean and they both watched the far off waves, ebb and flow in the distance, never quite making it to land.

 

\-----

**15\. Get It Out**  


Derek drove through the relative darkness. The roadside wasn't busy or cluttered but it was lit and well-paved. He glanced at the clock then to Stiles. The younger man had been fast asleep for well over an hour now. His head rested uncomfortably against the window, his seatbelt probably cutting into his neck.

Derek sighed and looked around until he found a decent hotel with a vacancy sign lit. He pulled into the parking lot and made sure Stiles was undisturbed and secured before booking a room.

He took two keys from the bored but accommodating night clerk and headed back to the Camaro. He managed to pull out all of the bags before trying to get Stiles out of the car.

The young man's limbs tried to escape with the belt still buckled and Derek struggled to free him despite the load on his back.

"Come on, Stiles," he muttered, helping him to his feet.

"I'm tired," Stiles whined and welcomed Derek's supporting shoulder under his arm.

"I know but you need to get into bed," Derek reminded him and locked up.

"Just carry me," Stiles whined.

"No way," Derek replied. "Come on." He led Stiles up two flights of stairs and almost wished he had dropped the bags off first if he had known it was going to be such an endeavor.

Stiles barely made it through the door and down the hall before collapsing on the first bed.

Derek checked the bathroom, flipping the lights on, then working his way into the room. He dumped all of their stuff in the corner by the window and pulled the curtains shut. He looked at Stiles and sighed. He knocked his leg against Stiles.

"Stiles," he called. Stiles didn't move. "Stiles." He huffed. "You're such a pain." He knelt at the foot of the bed and started untying his shoes, pulling them and then his socks off, throwing them to the side. He stood up half debating to leave him like that but they had been trekking up and down the coast and God knows what was on his clothes. He stripped him down to his under shirt and boxers and threw the blankets carelessly on him.

When Derek returned from using the bathroom, Stiles was wrapped in the blankets as if he had put himself to bed. Derek pulled his book from his bag and crawled into bed for the night.

\-----

**16\. Where Are You Go Go Going To?**  


Stiles woke up in bed. His neck hurt a bit and he cracked it a few times before sitting up in an unfamiliar hotel. He squinted in the dull light to see Derek dead asleep in the bed over. He crawled out of bed and padded into the bathroom.

When he returned, Derek was still fast asleep. Stiles sat on the bed, staring at his sleeping roommate, then grew bored and grabbed the spare key (an actual key to his surprise) and his wallet.

They weren't near the ocean anymore, he observed as he walked down the first flight of steps that overlooked an ordinary city. There were trees and a road where cars passed every minute or so but it was nothing worth noting. He wandered around the floors, looking for a vending machine, when he finally found one in front of the hotel office. He drank his soda slowly, taking in his surroundings, when he noticed a sign on the hotel window. Check Out at Noon. Stiles checked his watch. It was an hour until; there was no way Derek was waking up any time soon.

Stiles wandered into the hotel lobby and made his way to the desk, setting his soda can on the counter.

"Can I help you?" the middle aged woman smiled.

"Yeah, I was looking to extend my stay another night?" Stiles asked sleepily.

"Which room?" she asked, turning to an ancient computer that Stiles was almost 100% sure was running DOS. He looked at his key.

"308," he read.

She clicked around on the keys.

"Just one night?"

"Yes, please." Stiles turned and looked around the lobby. Pretty typical. Daytime TV, a waterfall display of tourist pamphlets, comfortable seating. A sign claimed to be close to their destination but honestly all of the mountains looked the same at this point.

"Ok. And that was on the Visa?"

Stiles nodded.

"Ok, Mr. Hale," she smiled. "We're glad you're enjoying your stay with us." She handed him a receipt.

Stiles blearily nodded and tried to smile as he grabbed the paper and his soda.

"Thanks."

He wandered back to the room and sure enough, Derek was still asleep. Stiles flipped the alarm clock off before noticing Derek's paperback on the bedside table. He grabbed it and a pillow and made his way to the hallway. He turned the overhead hall light on and curled into the notch between the door and the closet. He flipped through the cover pages and started reading.

\-----

**17\. Too Little Too Late**  


Derek woke up feeling groggy. He turned the alarm clock toward him. It was almost two in the afternoon. He tilted it up; it had been turned off. He dropped it angrily and looked at the other bed. It was empty. Taking a deep breath, he kicked off the blankets and slid down the bed, ready to yell at Stiles. He glanced to his left then turned.

Stiles cuddled his pillow in a tight, uncomfortable ball against the space between the closet and the door. His neck bowed heavily over the pillow, showing each bump in his spine.

Derek walked toward him, tapped Stiles' foot with his own but there was no movement. He crouched before him, pulling his book from the floor. He thumbed the pages, noticing a new bookmark inside. A receipt for an extra day. He tapped the paperback against his thigh then leaned in close, taking in every mark, every change of contour on Stiles' face.

Three years had been a long time.

Beacon Hills had three hotels in total. When the "accident" happened, the police placed him and Laura in the Best Western until Peter was released from the hospital. It was the only chain hotel in town and Derek remembered the sterile room as well as he remembered Peter's hospital room. He remembered waiting, crying, pacing and he hated it. Even when Stiles invited him to spend prom night with him, Derek suggested showing their faces at the Beacon Hills Lodge before entering that lobby again. Stiles had been less than pleased.

Between the Lodge and Thompson's Bar and Inn, Derek was well acquainted with the local hotels. Some weekends he felt like he lived there, barely leaving the room in fear of getting caught with the sheriff's underage son. But Derek was Stiles' favorite secret and Derek could never find a good enough excuse to say no. After a while, the chances of getting caught didn't outweigh the stillness of being alone and being called a pervert really wasn't much worse than the other names people called him.

Derek reached forward to touch Stiles' face but fell short. He pulled away and ran his hand through his own hair before tapping Stiles' leg.

"Stiles," he called. He shook Stiles' knee. "Stiles."

Stiles blinked blearily.

"What? Derek? What's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"

Derek gave him a dirty look but Stiles looked too tired to care.

"No," Derek assured him. "Why don't you go lie in bed?"

Stiles smiled sleepily.

"Ok."

Stiles' eyes fluttered shut.

"Stiles."

He blinked again, turning to Derek.

"What?"

Derek sighed and pulled Stiles to his feet, the younger man already starting to dose off again.

"Come on," Derek grunted, dragging him to his own bed.

Stiles curled up on the bed beside him.

"Wake me up for pie time," Stiles muttered, tugging his pillow into a cuddle.

"We're not having pie time," Derek assured him.

"I like pie," Stiles whispered, eyes closed. "And I want...all the pie."

Derek sighed then turned to bracket behind Stiles. He pressed his nose into Stiles' neck, resisting the desire to pull him in close.

"I know you do."

Derek waited until Stiles' breathing evened out then turned away, resting on his back, wanting to return to the warmth.

\-----

**18\. Every Little Hair Knows Your Name**  


Stiles lay on his stomach, eyes fixated on the TV. He shoveled Chinese takeout into his mouth as they watched a TV movie.

"Oh God, oh God!" Stiles exclaimed, although they had both seen the movie, and got ready to jerk back before he lunged forward. "What?" He turned to Derek. "They cut out the best part!"

Derek shrugged and pushed his food around.

Stiles glared at him then got his food container together and sat up.

"Seriously, are you not going to even watch?" Stiles asked.

"I'm watching," Derek replied, looking at his food.

Stiles huffed and moved next to Derek.

"What are you doing?" Derek asked, glaring at him.

"Move over. You're being dumb."

Derek continued to glare at him but moved over.

"Don't spill food on my bed," Derek warned.

"You love this movie," Stiles continued, pointing his fork at the TV. "I mean, yeah, it's TV edit bullshit but you love this movie."

Derek looked at the screen.

"I loved it the first three times we saw it," he agreed then looked back at Stiles. "But after the tenth time..." He shrugged.

"Seriously? You stopped liking this, what, six years ago and never said anything?" Stiles huffed and changed the channel.

"You don't have to change it," Derek replied and continued eating.

"Yes, I do," Stiles replied. "Cause you're the freaking worst."

Derek shifted on the bed and let Stiles move closer beside him.

"How about...Rocky? Everyone loves Rocky," Stiles stated but looked at Derek.

Derek shrugged.

"Whatever," Stiles snapped and changed the channel. "Poirot marathon it is."

"You don't even know who Poirot is," Derek pointed out.

"Yeah well you've watched Terminator for years despite not liking it."

"I liked it when we didn't watch it every month," Derek replied.

"Freaking worst," Stiles complained but shifted closer to Derek and watched in mild curiosity what he had turned on.

\-----

**19\. The Way I Feel Inside**  


Stiles groaned and tossed his phone into the cup holder, earning him a glance from Derek.

"Game ate my battery," Stiles replied and slouched in the passenger's seat. He watched the endless pass of trees outside his window. His fingers tapped on the door before he sat up and grabbed Derek's phone from the unused ash tray.

"What games do you have?" Stiles asked, unlocking it and pressing buttons.

"Stop that!" Derek snapped and slapped his hand, making Stiles drop Derek's phone under the chair.

"Seriously?" Stiles griped. "Do you have porn on it or something? Cause seriously!" He sat back in his chair and groaned, looking out the window. "God...that is like the perfect cloud."

"Why didn't you bring a real camera?" Derek asked.

"Cause I'm not you and into sitting in the dark and smelling fumes in my bathroom," Stiles stated then looked at Derek with a grin.

"Funny," Derek replied, unamused.

"Do you even still have all that stuff?" Stiles asked, sitting up.

"What? The film?"

Stiles shrugged.

"The film. The photos. The developer. All of it."

"I'm sure, somewhere," Derek replied.

"Liar," Stiles teased. "It's probably under your bed with all your important things like your diary."

"It was not a diary," Derek growled.

"Dear diary, today I ate paste. Love, Derek," Stiles laughed.

"It was not paste," Derek snapped but Stiles could see him turning a little red. "And it was the first grade."

"Did you even have paste when you were in school?" Stiles joked.

"Fuck off."

Stiles laughed and leaned against the door, extremely pleased with himself.

Derek glared at him but Stiles couldn't help his smile.

"You're such a sourpuss."

Stiles looked up again, watching the sky through passing trees and clouds.

"Can you stop at the next gas station? I have to pee," Stiles muttered.

Derek grumbled but Stiles had stopped listening.

\-----

**20\. Giant Hands**  


Stiles swam out into the lake and disappeared under the water, his feet kicking in the air for a moment, before reappearing further out.

"Are you coming in?" Stiles called.

"I'm not really into swimming," Derek yelled back, fully clothed, surrounded by tall, thinning trees that descended from the mountain forest and into the lake.

"I thought you wanted to see the lake!"

"Yeah," Derek shouted back, "I'm seeing it."

"You're so lame," Stiles called and dunked under the murky water.

Derek watched the younger man swim under the water toward him. He took a few steps back.

Stiles broke the surface and shook his head, sending water around him in a halo.

"Come on!" he called. "We didn't drive two hours for me to swim for five minutes and then sit in the car for the two hour drive back down the mountain!"

"I didn't bring trunks!" Derek countered and earned a 'what the fuck, who cares' face in return.

Derek shook his head but shrugged off his jacket and began to undress.

"Yay!" Stiles cheered, swimming closer.

The dirt ground was wet from the receding tide and sharp rocks jutted out between the fallen pine needles.

"You're a pain in the ass," Derek shouted and moved toward the water, his toes trying to find purchase in the sliding mud.

"Oh! Wait! Wait! Wait!" Stiles called.

Derek froze on the shore, looking at Stiles with a worried expression.

"Grab my camera!"

Derek glared at him.

"Your phone's still charging in the car," Derek reminded him.

Stiles grinned, backstroking into deeper water.

"Yeah but I bought a camera at the gas station," Stiles admitted and looked sheepishly at his reflection then shrugged. "You can develop them when we get back."

Derek stared at him.

Stiles bit his lip and turned to swim away.

"Or you know..." He turned onto his back again, letting his arms slowly move him backward. "Whatever we want."

Derek walked into the lake and dunked under when he was neck deep in the open water. He watched Stiles drift silently, barely moving his arms but treading water underneath to stay afloat.

"You can't develop one time use cameras at home," Derek announced finally.

Stiles turned to him, moving upright.

"You can't?"

Derek shook his head.

"Well that was a waste," Stiles muttered, purposely sinking under to hide his pout.

Derek swam toward him and earned a wary look from Stiles.

"What?" Stiles bubbled into the water, still mostly submerged.

"But I appreciate the thought," Derek admitted softly.

Stiles' eyes grew wide when Derek's hand touched his jaw. His large palm pressed against his cheek just under the surface. The older man gave the briefest smile then pulled his hand away, leaving Stiles' face a dusty pink. Derek swam toward a jut in the lake when he heard splashing behind him.

"I don't think so!" Stiles yelled, propelling himself into Derek, wrapping his arms around Derek's neck and lifting himself out of the water. "You don't get to do that," Stiles whispered, suddenly close and pressed against Derek, his bright and frightened eyes staring down at him. "You don't get to do that and just leave."

Derek searched his face, his breath coming up short in his lungs.

"Then what should I do?" Derek whispered; his voice barely audible, his heart trembling in his chest and against Stiles' exposed skin. His palms pushed flat against Stiles' back, when Stiles leaned down and kissed him.

"You don't run away," Stiles whispered against his lips and leaned in again to steal another kiss.

\-----

**21\. Delicate**  


Derek nipped at his neck, ran his teeth over the wet skin and held him close. Stiles could close his eyes and remember a slideshow of desire starting here, a bite of skin, lips pressed against his.

Sixteen and scared.

Sixteen and in love.

"Don't run away," Stiles whispered again, his fingers digging into Derek's shoulders. Maybe if he dug deep enough he could find the scars. Kiss away the scabs and finally let them heal.

"You left me," Derek breathed almost inaudible against his neck.

"Because you ran," Stiles replied and pushed away, not forceful, just a palm against his chest.

Derek looked alien to him. Hurt and vulnerable, his heart under his hand, frantically trying to escape.

"I loved you," Stiles admitted, looking away. "I always did and you left me and hid me and..." He looked up and shrugged. "You had done it before. All of it. It wasn't new to you like it was for me. And you just left me, and I thought...maybe this is how it's done. Maybe it was just this thing you do and get over it and you didn't..."

His courage died in his throat.

"You didn't really care...not really," his hesitant conclusion whimpered out.

The water lapped at them and the droplets on their skin never paused in their fall, just as the years had never stopped for them.

Stiles gave a wounded laugh.

"It seems stupid. I hadn't seen you in three fucking years and suddenly you were there, at the wedding," he rambled. "I knew you would come. I asked Allison to invite you. But of all people you brought Peter and I couldn't get near you. I was absolutely terrified and all I could think was it's been three years! Why would you even still—"

Derek sunk into the water, sparking Stiles to scramble closer. But Derek's grip remained tight, his fingers pressing deep into his skin; his warm lips flush against Stiles' ear –a harsh contrast to the cool water.

"Always," Derek whispered.

Stiles' breath stuttered and he laughed.

"Always?" he laughed into the air, unable to see anything but the blue sky and the trees.

"Always."

Stiles bit his lip but the laughter tumbled out, easing the weight he didn't know he still carried. His fingers carded through Derek's hair and he pulled him close, unable to think of a better response.

\-----

**22\. Ghost in the Snow**  


The darken horizon was lit by familiar names but the locations were wrong. Signs of rest stops, gas and food were abundant as they drove down the three lanes of open highway.

Stiles curled up against the window in his zipped hoodie, asleep from the long day. Under his familiar jacket, Derek's shirt hung long to his mid-thigh. The drive down the mountain had been mostly quiet. Stiles tried a few times to pretend nothing had changed but his voice got lost before he found his points. He would stare out into nothing, forgetting he had even been speaking.

And Derek would want to pull him in, kiss his hesitation, bite at his fears, calm his uncertainty, but his own worries ate at him. He never held Stiles and protected him, not intentionally, not with that purpose so clear and open for everyone to see, most of all for Stiles to see.

It scared him.

Stiles jerked awake to a loud ringing. He looked around incoherently before pulling his phone from his pocket and leaning into it.

"Hello?" he answered, his voice still groggy.

Derek tried to focus on the road but the highway stretches clearly before him for miles.

"Yeah, we're on our way," Stiles muttered then chuckled. "No. We have..." Stiles stared outside, "another three hours or so." His face would brighten by passing signs then disappear into the muted darkness. "I will. Mm hm. Love you too."

Stiles turned off his phone and turned to Derek.

"My dad," he stated.

"Checking up on you?" Derek light-heartedly teased.

"Well you know, I left him a note saying I was leaving for a week with Derek Hale, can't really blame him," Stiles grinned. He leaned against the window and watched the nameless city pass by.

"Glad to see I'm still on his radar," Derek mumbled, sarcastically.

Stiles laughed and pulled up his phone to the window.

"I remember when you locked Scott in a closet and forgot to take his phone away," Stiles reminded. "I still don't know how we ended up getting grounded and you got a front seat ride home like fucking royalty."

Stiles took a photo then frowned.

"I think your dad could sympathize dealing with you two," Derek assured him. "Why don't you use the camera you bought?"

Stiles looked up at him then shook his head, returning his phone.

"These are mine," Stiles replied. "And I don't want to share this anyone else."

Derek drove, unable to reply. The silence hung heavy as Stiles played with his phone.

"Also there's this old man who doesn't want his face all over the internet," Stiles added casually with a smirk. "I don't get his deal."

Derek laughed.

"I give it a month," Derek taunted. "Then Allison and Lydia will want to see photos."

Stiles shrugged.

"I did want to show Scott the dinosaur," he grinned. "I'll make sure to blur you out."

"Thanks for the afterthought," Derek thanked.

Stiles just grinned.

"Don't worry," Stiles assured him. "I won't send them to Boyd. I know that's your real worry."

Derek reached over and punched him in the shoulder.

\-----

**23\. Maps**  


Stiles scrambled onto the hood of the Camaro, sliding up against Derek, grinning.

"Watch the paint," Derek whispered against his lips.

"Are you Jackson now?" Stiles teased. The wind was sharply cold at the lookout but Stiles pulled up his hood and curled into Derek's side.

"Do you think Jackson would let you get close to his paint job with your shoes?"

"Don't get butt hurt; I didn't say I thought you were like him," Stiles smiled.

Derek shook his head and looked up at the sky. He felt Stiles thread his fingers through his.

"I haven't been up here since my parents died," Derek admitted softly. Stiles' head tilted up toward him. Derek looked out to the dark outlines of familiar hills and their soft tops of trees, pressing a kiss to Stiles' temple, which felt comforting and alien in its newness. "It had been a small family trip, just my parents, my siblings and me. We usually took large trips with my uncles and aunts and cousins but this had just been us."

"What did you guys do?" Stiles whispered, his breath warm against his ear and neck.

Derek shrugged.

"Hung out? I don't know. It wasn't anything special at the time."

Stiles' thumb rubbed against his.

"My dad wanted to teach my brother and I to set up camp for our next father/son trip. But we never got to it. Laura wanted to go swimming and that was more interesting than listening to my dad go on about finding the right spot to set up camp or rope tying. But I remembered the stars."

Stiles leaned into him but remained silent. He knew Derek was thinking of the lost moments; he was remembering his family in the clearest detail.

"The stars were just so bright," Derek whispered. "Unlike anything I had ever seen before."

They sat silently on the cooling hood. Stiles pressed his fingers into Derek's hands, trying to memorize every shape and curve of them, until Derek held them together, pulling him closer and whispering memories into Stiles' ear. Stiles clung to him, keeping each story close as if each were his own memories.

\-----

**24\. Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want**  


Stiles pulled on the straps of his backpack despite the bags in his hands. His face was aglow from the lights lining his front steps. Compared to the open space, the forests and oceans, Beacon Hills felt false and fake. The suburban houses felt claustrophobic and cutouts of the same pattern, duplicated as far as the eye could see.

"I'll see you around then," Stiles called, the tip of his toe dragging back and forth on the brick.

"Ok," Derek agreed and nodded from the driver's seat. The engine was off but Stiles felt him pulling away already.

"I don't mind if you...you know, need time and what not," Stiles stated but looked at the ground and suddenly felt uncomfortable. He bit the inside of his mouth a few times then looked up and smiled. "It's not like you told anyone you were going out with me..." Stiles swallowed hard, "I mean for the trip, not that we're, you know, going out or something." Stiles blushed heavily and made a disgusted face. "I'm just going to go inside before I make a further ass of myself."

His brain whispered, traitorously, summers were summers.

"Stiles," Derek interrupted and Stiles paused mid-turn. "I'll call you."

Stiles stood still then nodded, dumbly.

"I mean it," Derek repeated. "Wait for me."

Stiles gave a hesitant smile then walked back to the Camaro.

"I will," Stiles assured him, leaning in but not close enough to touch the car or its driver. "You know I will."

Derek nodded.

"I do," Derek agreed. He reached up and touched his face, leaning forward for a small kiss. "I'll see you soon," Derek breathed.

Stiles grinned and nodded, pulling his bags close to him.

"Bye."

Stiles waved.

"See ya later."

Stiles didn't move until the car turned the corner and disappeared. He bit his lower lip. A part of him wanted to let it go, let summer be summer. But the bubbling happiness in his chest wouldn't let the thought go far. He walked up the stairs with a pleased, lovesick grin.

It took thirty minutes for Derek to call him.

 

\-----

**25\. Ho Hey**  


Stiles laughed as he leaned into Derek's weight, the older man's hands pulling at his hips, his jeans, teasing his shirt up to touch skin. Stiles pushed forward, sending them into his bed. Their lips meeting between giggles.

"I don't usually put out on the first date," Stiles teased, rutting into Derek; his socked feet tried to find purchase against the messy sheets.

"And all of the other nights didn't count as dates?" Derek growled, arching up into Stiles while his hands pulled down. "I feel a bit cheated."

Stiles licked his swollen lips with a grin.

"What can I say? I'm a bit of—"

"Stiles!" a loud shout called from down the hall.

Stiles froze before rolling off Derek.

"I thought you said he was working," Derek hissed, angrily. His face was a mix of uncomfortable terror and arousal as he tried to adjust himself in his jeans.

"He was!" Stiles snapped, trying to move his own pants around.

There was a knock on the door.

"Stiles," the Sheriff called.

Stiles looked at his boyfriend with an unsure look.

The sheriff knocked again.

"Stiles, I know you're in there," he repeated.

"Um, yeah, Dad," Stiles stuttered out then raised his hands at Derek for any advice. "Hold up. Just give me—"

"Come downstairs for a moment," the Sheriff called and Stiles made a face. He really couldn't believe this. There was a pause, then, "And tell Derek to come down with you."

Stiles' face turned beet red. He could hear his father walking downstairs when he turned to Derek.

"What the fuck are we going to do?" Stiles hissed.

Derek scooted to the end of the bed and sighed.

"We're going downstairs," he replied with a pained look and stood up.

Stiles watched him open the door and head down the hall before kicking his bed and following. Derek waited patiently for him at the foot of the stairs, glancing up at Stiles when he joined him. His father stood in the kitchen, eating a cookie casually like he hadn't just interrupted his son and his son's boyfriend.

"Hey!" Stiles exclaimed, pointing at the treat. "I told you no cookies!"

"And I just found you in my house doing God knows what with a man far too old for you," the Sheriff retorted. "That gives me all the cookies I want."

Stiles huffed but stood silently. His foot tapped nervously under the scrutiny.

"I don't want to know what you two have been up to," Sheriff Stilinski spoke. "And don't want to know for how long." He reached for another treat. "I think Derek has seen the back of the sheriff vehicle enough to last him a lifetime." He looked at Derek pointedly.

"Yes, sir," Derek replied softer than Stiles had ever heard him in reply.

The Sheriff reached for another cookie despite him not finishing the one in his hand. Stiles wanted to yell at him. Seriously, three!?

"Well with that settled, go wash up for dinner," Mr. Stilinski announced, finally closing the cookie jar.

Stiles looked at Derek in shock then to his father. His mouth floundering a moment before starting.

"Dad, we kinda already had plans for—"

"Stiles," the Sheriff warned and turned to him.

"Seriously?" Stiles exclaimed but his dad merely nodded back up the stairs.

Stiles huffed and poked Derek as he headed upstairs. Derek walked up behind him sheepishly. If he hadn't been equally embarrassed, Stiles would be taking great joy in Derek's discomfort.

"Derek," Sheriff Stilinski called.

Both boys paused and looked at him. The Sheriff pointed toward the downstairs bathroom.

"Really, Dad?" Stiles shouted, incredulously.

Derek slowly turned and walked down the stairs, watching Sheriff Stilinski cautiously, before heading down the hall to the downstairs bathroom.

Stiles glared at his dad.

"You're the worst sometimes," he pouted.

"Go wash up," the Sheriff repeated then turned to set the table.

\-----

**26\. Lullaby From The West Coast Sleepers**  


Derek's eyes followed Stiles' as the young man ran his fingers gently across Derek's face; the TV ran in the background but it had been forgotten. Derek lay sprawled across Stiles' couch, his legs hanging over the edge of the arm and his head resting in Stiles' lap.

The callous fingertips ran across his eyebrows, traced the bone to his cheek. When they lingered too long on his lips, Derek nipped at them, causing Stiles to smile but not stop in his exploration.

"Where do we go from here?" Stiles whispered, his concerns always so open across his face. "I have to head back in a week. Internships." His thumb ran across Derek's bottom lip and stayed when it earned a soft bite and lick. "And you ignore me again. For who knows how long."

Derek knew how the silence looked. He knew what Stiles wanted him to say, but the words didn't come.

"I mean we do have a week," Stiles smiled but it's forced, still not trusting anything, trying to fall back into familiar habits. Safe, practiced, well-protected habits.

"Tell me about your apartment," Derek replied instead.

Stiles chuckled but Derek could hear the disappointment.

"It's all right. I have two roommates who are gone for the month I'm back. It's pretty lame," Stiles told him. "We get along pretty well. It's as clean as three grown men living together gets."

"Then not at all?" Derek teased.

Stiles laughed.

"We try. Points for trying," he joked. His fingers had stopped their search and rested on Derek's collarbone.

"Stiles!" the Sheriff called from outside.

They both looked outside where Stiles' father was grilling burgers. Stiles had been furious when Derek showed up with real meat, rather than the veggie burgers Stiles told him to buy; Mr. Stilinski had been so delighted with the mishap that he volunteered to grill.

"What?" Stiles shouted.

Derek winced. It was definitely not a form of family communication he was familiar with hearing.

"Get your grown ass out here with a plate and give me a hand," the Sheriff yelled back.

Stiles groaned, pushing Derek to sit up.

"First he wants to grill by himself. Now he wants my help. Old man needs to make up his mind," Stiles grumbled.

Derek stood up before Stiles and gently put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll take care of it," Derek stated.

Stiles raised his eyebrow.

"Are you suicidal? Two family dinners and real meat doesn't really make the whole underage sex go away," Stiles retorted.

"Just..." Derek trailed off.

"STILES!"

"I'm coming!" Stiles shouted and rose to his feet, only to be pushed down again. "Derek..." He was starting to look uncomfortable but Derek went to the kitchen and grabbed a large platter.

"Honestly, could you—"

The Sheriff clamed up when he saw Derek. He sternly turned back to the grill and reached for his beer.

Derek rested the plate next to the grill and stood silently beside him.

"Thank you for having me for dinner," Derek stated, awkwardly.

"Well, if you plan to date my son, I expect to see you at the house occasionally," he replied. "With your clothes on," he added quickly. "And only when I'm at home."

Derek nodded, watching the Sheriff scrape the burgers off the grill and onto the platter. The younger man's throat dried from the smoke, tension and mild anxiety.

"I'm not stupid," Mr. Stilinski stated, as if finally having a silent listener opened Pandora's Box of unsaid feelings. "I knew you boys had a fishy relationship back when Stiles was in high school. He never talked about you, yet, somehow, me and everyone in town saw you two going to out and about, loitering and cruising around." He sipped his beer. "But I don't want to know. The past is in the past and the less I know, the better I will sleep at night."

Derek nodded, wishing he had Stiles' skill to run his mouth without much thought. He wished he could just say his word and move on.

"But I'm glad I know," the Sheriff continued. He gave a resigned smile at the grill. "I'm glad Stiles..." He trailed off and Derek wanted to give his sympathy. "Take those inside," Sheriff Stilinski instructed as he turned off the grill and finished his beer.

Derek reached forward and grabbed the plate under the Sheriff's watchful eye. He headed slowly back to the house, where Stiles was spying through the window. He entered the backdoor and watched Stiles approach him.

"So..." Stiles started, "what was that about?"

"Nothing," Derek replied promptly.

"Bullshit. You all but tackled me to spend time with my dad. That's weird."

Derek set the burgers down on the dining table and moved to grab the silverware when Stiles moved in front of him.

"Derek. What were you doing?"

"I ran with a thought," Derek muttered. "It didn't work out."

Derek stood patiently then pushed Stiles away from the drawer.

"Oh come on," Stiles tried again, leaning against the drawer, rattling its contents.

"Fine," Derek huffed. "I want more from this."

Stiles stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless.

"Maybe get out of Beacon Hills and...I don't know."

Derek could feel his face warming up and turned to set the table when Stiles turned him back. The shit eating grin on Stiles' face didn't help anything.

"You were going to ask my dad permission," Stiles teased. "You want to go official and you chickened out because of my dad."

"Shut up," Derek growled. He set the table despite Stiles trying to move in front of him, every chance he got.

"No. Like seriously. You were going to ask my dad? Are you thirteen?" Stiles giggled. "Should I make us facebook official?"

"Shut up," Derek snapped.

"You're totally afraid of my dad!"

"Well you're afraid of Peter so we're even."

"I'm not scared of him," Stiles protested. "I'm weirded out by him. He's weird."

"He is not," Derek defended.

"He gave me a book by Anaïs Nin for my fourteenth birthday," Stiles pointed out. Derek had promptly confiscated the book but Stiles was right, Peter had been weird and incredibly humiliating.

Stiles grinned at Derek's concession.

"So, you're totally not beating me on this," Stiles gloated. "You being scared of my dad, freaking hilarious."

"Just shut up, Stiles."

"No," Stiles whispered. He pulled Derek close, pinning himself against the table, despite Derek's feeble pushes. "I want you to come up with me. To my school. We can drive together and you can be my kept wife while I'm out making the bacon."

"You're not getting paid," Derek replied.

Derek was nervous. Running was easier. Being alone was easier than letting Stiles tangle himself into Derek's life, once again. But Stiles kissed him, his delight and love so clear on his face.

"I'm also not your kept anything," Derek muttered against his lips.

A cough brought them back to reality. Sheriff Stilinski stood at the back door, beer in hand, looking unamused. He motioned for them to part with his hands and Derek jerked back, knowing he looked like the guilty party. The Sheriff passed them and Derek reached forward and pinched Stiles' arm. Stiles grinned and moved to his seat across from Derek. The Sheriff turned and watched them suspiciously as he sat between them.

\-----

**27\. This Modern Love [Acoustic]**  


Stiles entered the shop hesitantly, looking around for any movement.

"Hello?" he called.

"Derek's getting ready," Peter announced, sending Stiles jerking back from the sudden reply. "Have a long month planned?"

Peter fully exited the backroom doorway and sat behind the register counter.

"Um...not really," Stiles replied, hesitantly, but tried to keep his voice even. "I'll be at work mostly."

"Hm," Peter mulled, watching Stiles.

"Seriously, stop staring," Stiles finally huffed. "It's totally creeping me out."

"I'm just helping my customers," Peter assured him.

Stiles looked around; there were no other customers.

"So are you two dating again?" Peter asked.

"Not that it's any of your business," Stiles started, "but yeah. Yeah, we're dating again. Do you have anything to say cause go ahead; Say them. I'm ready. Go for it."

Stiles swallowed hard and waited. Peter's gaze bore down on him but the older man didn't move.

"W...well?" Stiles stuttered out.

Peter just grinned.

"Derek!" Peter called. "Stiles is here."

Stiles heard shuffling in back and glared at Peter.

Peter grinned.

"He's on his way."

Stiles pursed his lips, trying to hold his tongue.

Derek entered the room but paused when he noticed Peter and Stiles staring at each other. He sighed, pulled his bag up his shoulder, and grabbed Stiles' hand as he made his way out.

"Have a good time," Peter called out, without moving.

Stiles glanced at him over his shoulder but let Derek lead him out.

"I don't want to know," Derek called before Stiles even opened his mouth.

"He started it!" Stiles exclaimed.

Derek shook his head and climbed into the passenger's side of the jeep.

Stiles watched him throw his duffel bag into the backseat with Stiles' stuff. Stiles stared at the shop front nervously.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged and started the Jeep.

"I just can't believe we're actually doing this," Stiles stated.

"It's just a month," Derek assured him.

"Yeah, but you're, like, staying with me. I've never had someone stay with me. For any amount of time."

"I know for a fact that Scott stayed with you for two weeks one year," Derek replied.

Stiles raised his eyebrow at him.

"Stalking me?"

"Isaac told me," Derek retorted. "He wanted to know what the whole college experience was like or something and apparently Scott was a wealth of information."

Stiles grinned.

"You were jealous," he teased.

Derek glared at him but Stiles continued.

"Anyway, that was years ago. That wasn't even in my current apartment," Stiles informed him. "So stop over analyzing it."

"I'm not analyzing anything," Derek replied, flatly. "I just need to get away from this town." He watched the familiar setting, the police station, the school, Scott's house.

Stiles laughed.

"You're such a bad liar."

Derek turned back to him.

Stiles just grinned and kept driving his familiar route of out town.  


\-----

**28\. Dents [My Old Kentucky Blog Version]**  


Stiles opened his apartment door and dropped his stuff at the door. He kicked off his shoes, sending one flying into the adjacent wall. He cringed.

It was late afternoon and the sun was coming in through the dusty blinds. The front room was not decorated and unimpressive. No one wanted to come forward to decorate the shared common space so it had just stayed empty. Minus the mismatched furniture. And all of takeout containers from the night before.

"Derek?" he called out, purposely dragging his feet. There was no reply. "Derek!" he whined and made his way to his bedroom. He nudged the door open with his head. Derek glanced up from his spot on the bed, pulling down his headphones. "Didn't you hear me calling you?"

Stiles collapsed on the bed beside Derek, pulling his pillow from the head of the bed and over his face.

"I figured you would find me eventually," Derek teased, reaching over Stiles to turn off his player.

Stiles turned over onto his back and glared up at him.

"No shit. You haven't moved like all day," Stiles pouted. "What are you reading, anyway?"

He pulled Derek's book from his hand.

"I didn't get to finish it," he replied, snuggling down into the bed to let Stiles curl into his side. The sun poured in through the open blinds and Stiles noted the window cracked open, letting the noise from the pool area outside filter in. Derek pulled the worn paperback from Stiles and rested against him. "Shall I read to you?"

Stiles smiled.

"I'm not twelve, you know," he retorted with no bite and wrapped his arm against Derek, taking a deep breath and twisting his leg over Derek's. "You don't have to," he whispered.

The warm summer air and afternoon sun lured him further into Derek and the comfort of his bed.

"A wave of yet more tender joy escaped from his heart and went coursing in warm flood along his arteries," Derek read softly against Stiles' temple; his lips brushed against Stiles' skin. "Like the tender fires of stars moments of their life together, that no one knew of or would ever know of, broke upon and illumined his memory. He longed to recall to her those moments, to make her forget the years of their dull existence together and only their moments of ecstasy."

Stiles closed his eyes and listened as Derek continued to read, his voice rumbling in his chest before releasing into the air; each rise and fall of breath brought warmth against his skin. It wasn't long before Stiles was fast asleep in Derek's arms.

\-----

**29\. Home**  


_One Year Later_

Derek watched as Stiles dug through box after box, cursing and yelling at each. The younger man shoved another pile to the side before crawling on the floor to search through another.

"What are you doing?" Derek asked, taking a drink from his glass as if he hadn't come into the kitchen because of the noise. Sweat seeped through his wife-beater from the heavy lifting.

"I'm trying to put things away!" Stiles exclaimed and gestured to their new, bare kitchen full of moving boxes and reused shopping bags bursting with random things they threw in when organizing got too stressful. "I'm trying to not go freaking mad!"

"I think that's a little late," Derek stated flatly.

Stiles glared at him and stood up by grabbing the countertop behind him. He picked up a pair of brand new scissors in hard plastic.

"See! I bought these today knowing that I'm going to need to cut some shit open," Stiles exclaimed. "But see!" He moved the handles back and forth but the blades moved inside of the plastic. "I can't get into the plastic without having ANOTHER pair of scissors to get them free! And all I want to do is cut some shit! And I thought, oh well then I'll just go get the can opener AND NOW I CAN'T FIND THE CAN OPENER! I have looked in every bag and box and drawer and fucking piece of shit thing and I cannot find it!"

Derek grinned.

"Don't you laugh at me!" Stiles snapped and pointed the scissors at him. "It's not funny!" Derek laughed. "IT'S NOT FUNNY!"

"Sorry," Derek tried but couldn't stop smiling.

"You're the freaking worst," Stiles pouted and moved to grab his keys. "I'm going to buy a can opener."

"It'll turn up."

Stiles sighed heavily.

"I...I just need to get out. I'm so sick of looking at all these bags and boxes." He scratched his head and looked at Derek helplessly. "I just don't know what to do."

Derek gave him a half smile.

"I got the TV set up," Derek offered.

Stiles sighed in gratitude and threw his keys on the counter.

"Thank you."

He walked into Derek and buried his face into his chest, wrapping his arms around him and breathing him in.

"It's fine," Derek whispered against his forehead and kissed it. "You'll have to dig around to find any of the DVDs."

"I don't care," Stiles replied and let Derek lead him into their new living room where their nasty, ugly couch now lived, surrounded by boxes full of their stuff.

\-----

**30\. Theme**  


_Three Years Later_

Stiles smiled shyly then rested his fingers on the waistband of Derek's suit. Derek paused and looked up from Stiles' bowtie.

"What?" he asked.

"Nerves," Stiles admitted.

"You'll be fine," Derek assured him.

"I have to be better than fine or Lydia will kill me," Stiles smiled.

"Well if she has a problem, send her my way," Derek replied. "I'll set her straight."

Stiles grinned. Derek had been threatening to set her 'straight' for months now.

"I think you're the only person willing to confront the bridezilla," Allison stated as she flipped through a magazine. She leaned against Scott on the sofa, who was content staring at her, occasionally pushing her hair back and earning a loving smile in return. She looked regal in her Maid of Honor dress, despite her casual demeanor. "She threatened to castrate Jackson if he tried changing the cake order again."

"I'm with Lydia on that one," Stiles grinned.

Derek finished tying Stiles' bowtie and moved away, letting Stiles' fingers fall from his side.

"You need to stop babying her," Derek stated, moving to the other couch.

"Wait until your wedding," Allison retorted, not looking up. "Then you'll understand."

Stiles gave Derek a disgusted look.

"God, I hope you don't turn into a bridezilla," Stiles teased and earned a sharp jab to his side, which he squirmed away from and laughed off.

Derek looked at his watch.

"You two should probably head over to help Lydia," he stated.

Stiles stood while Scott shot up to help Allison to her feet.

"Good luck, dude," Scott fist bumped Stiles.

Derek rolled his eyes, pushing Stiles toward the door, which let Scott and Allison say goodbye and kiss like they weren't going to see each other for months. Stiles leaned into the hall wall and pulled Derek into him.

"Tell me I look good," Stiles grinned.

"You look good," Derek replied. He gave Stiles a chaste kiss against the temple and pulled away. "I'll see you after the ceremony."

"Hey," Stiles called, grabbing Derek's hand before he went back into the waiting room. "I love you."

Derek gave him a small smile and a quick kiss.

"Love you too," he whispered against his lips.

"Gross," Scott mocked then laughed.

Derek glared at him and stalked back into the room.

Stiles offered his arm to Allison and led her to Lydia's room.

"So who do you think should get to dance with Danny?" Stiles asked with a grin.

Allison smirked.

"I'm pretty sure I remember Lydia saying there wasn't going to be a Maid of Honor/Best Man dance," Allison retorted.

"So I can take it? Since I'm the Man of Honor," Stiles pointed out.

"Lydia is going to kill you, if Jackson doesn't," Allison laughed.

"Or should we let Scott have his dance?"

Allison playfully elbowed him.

"You're terrible," she giggled.

"Come on! It's tradition," Stiles exclaimed.

He grinned and prepared himself for the meltdown or disaster they were going to meet when they finally got to Lydia.

\-----

**31\. Two of Us [Naked Version]**  


Derek's fingers gripped into Stiles' back. He didn't trust the younger man to stay on his feet without support.

"Everything was so lovely," Stiles giggled, his alcohol-laced breath spreading over Derek's face. "Did you think everything was lovely, Derek?"

Derek looked around and was glad they weren't the only ones on the dance floor. He knew that didn't mean there wasn't enough photographic evidence to embarrassed Stiles when he sobered up but for now he could enjoy the closeness without feeling too self-conscious.

"Derek," Stiles whined.

Derek looked back to him and tapped his nose against Stiles'.

"What?" he whispered.

Stiles' face was red with alcohol but he grinned brightly.

"Was it lovely?" Stiles repeated.

"You know it was," Derek replied, catching Lydia's glance. The bride smiled softly before turning back to her new husband, completely engaged in their own bliss. "It was lovely, Stiles."

Stiles grinned at this response and wrapped his arms around Derek's neck, leaning in.

"And me?" Stiles giggled.

"Of course," Derek replied. "Of course." He pressed a kiss to Stiles' temple.

"Let's go on a drive," Stiles stated, pulling back.

"You're drunk," Derek pointed out.

Stiles laughed loudly, throwing his head back, causing Derek to stumble to catch him. Stiles righted himself into Derek's weight.

"No, I mean later. Let's go somewhere. Like last time." Stiles stared at him, his admiration so clear and available for Derek's taking. "Let's go. Just the two of us. Anywhere."

Derek nodded, touching Stiles' eyebrow then nodding again.

"Sure," he agreed. "Let's go somewhere."

Stiles' grin beamed before he pulled away.

"SCOTT!" he screamed. "SCOTT!" Derek blushed heavily as people turned toward them.

"Stiles," Derek hissed but silenced when he saw Scott turning toward them from his table.

"Come dance with me!" Stiles shouted.

Allison looked mutually mortified as Scott tried to stand, tripped and apologized to another guest as he tried to get to the dance floor.

Stiles grinned at Derek.

"Love you!" Stiles laughed and kissed Derek messily on the lips before running toward Scott to collide/dance with him.

Derek glanced at Allison in embarrassment then sighed and watched Stiles try to climb/dance on Scott while Scott tried to do the same. It wasn't long before the two of them were rolling around on the floor laughing and Derek had to escort them both back to their chairs before Lydia murdered them both. Stiles pressed against Derek and smiled as his boyfriend dropped Scott in his chair.

"I love you," Stiles grinned.

"I love you too, you drunk," Derek muttered and let Stiles press sloppy kisses against his cheek until he fell asleep, pressed up against Derek, happy and exhausted from the long day behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading.
> 
> Most the locations were inspired by actual sites I've visited on road trips around Northern California. 
> 
> The dinosaur (a brachiosaurus) they visit was an actual site off of HWY 80 in Dixon. She unfortunately isn't in Dixon or in one piece anymore.
> 
> The redwood park location was inspired by the Avenue of the Giants park, which is north of Dixon, but based on my favorite redwood park, the Armstrong Redwoods State Natural Reserve in Guerneville. It has a lovely outdoor amphitheater and Colonel Armstrong is the oldest tree in the park.
> 
> The beach was a fusion of a number of coastal beaches off of HWY 1 going north from Fort Ross.
> 
> The mountain/lake they visit is Mt./Lake Shasta. I wanted to add the Shasta Caverns but there wasn't enough time.
> 
> The book Derek is reading on the trip is The Dubliners by James Joyce. The passage is from the final story, The Dead, which is a mutual love for suchaprince and myself.


End file.
